Please be patient

Please be patient with me

Please be patient with me as I accept and navigate my new reality

Please be patient with me, this suggested diagnosis is difficult to swallow -- as much as I know it fits, it answers so many questions -- as much as it's almost epiphanic in its simplicity

Please be patient with me, I truly thought I knew what was going on

Please be patient with me, the path through "severe depression" cannot be rushed

Please be patient with me -- I know you're used to my highs, my "everything's fine"s, my ability to know the bright side of everything

Please be patient with me -- I, too, am used to those highs, that vantage point

Please be patient with me, the realisation that it's all been a cover, a facade over something deep, something tumultuous -- is difficult for me to handle

Please be patient with me as I (again) work to rebuild myself

Please be patient with me as I struggle with the amount of work still yet to be done.... especially when I feel I've come so far

Please be patient with me as my own patience, my sense of self, are battered and torn and shredded

Please be patient with me as I search for the right words, the definitions, the explanations, the realisations that I hope will serve me well in communicating what I, myself, don't understand

Please be patient with me as I struggle

Resolution versus Intention

As defined by the OED, a Resolution is: A firm decision to do or not to do something. Stemming from “Late Middle English: from Latin resolutio(n-), from resolvere ‘loosen, release’ (see resolve).” To resolve a problem.

An Intention is defined as: A thing intended; an aim or plan. The etymology being: “Late Middle English: from Old French entencion, from Latin intentio(n-) ‘stretching, purpose’, from intendere (see intend).”

Greece - December 2018

Words have meaning and the inherent meanings of words bring power to the messages conveyed using those words. Consider the impact of some of the greatest speeches held in the annals of history, the words therein where carefully chosen for their meaning, to increase the intended impact of the message being conveyed.

As a writer, I am blisteringly aware of the power of words, so it recently became important to me to understand my aversion to the concept of making New Year’s Resolutions.

Each time the Gregorian calendar approaches the 1st of January, friends and family members begin discussing the concept of Resolutions – some in earnest, some in jest, some even with a hint of sardonicism – and each year, my participation in the conversation wanes markedly.

My hesitance in sharing what I resolve to do in the coming year is that I find resolutions to be strict, unyielding, unaccepting of change, of movement.

A firm decision to do or not to do something. Historically, I have decided to “go to the gym 3-4 times a week”, as an example. I had been resolved. I had made a firm decision to do something. When an unavoidable change in circumstances then happened and I could no longer afford my gym membership, my resolution ceased to be, it failed. I felt, on several levels, disappointed. I was let down by life, the Universe, and by me. I had made the decision and I hadn’t been able to fulfil my own rigid expectations.

After several such disappointments, I decided something I now believe to be invaluable:

I don’t need to resolve. My life isn't a problem to be fixed. I don’t view my life as something for which I need to make ‘firm decisions’. I don’t live my life in such a way that my life needs to be resolved, released, loosened. I my life has a purpose. I live my life in such a way that I am ever stretching; my mind, my body, my goals, my plans… My life has purpose, it has direction. I intend.

When things happen that are unexpected, or ‘against the plan’, as they inevitably will, I merely adjust the plan, I re-aim, I stretch.

This flexibility, I find, is crucial when it comes to my emotional, mental, and even physical health. The knowledge that I am allowed to change, to adjust, to just “go with the flow” as life brings me new challenges and opportunities enables me to better accept my place in the world.

Each year, as I age and learn and grow and stretch; I make intentions… Flexible plans that perfectly fit the life I am designing for myself.

I intend. I intend to choose my words carefully. I intend to live my life free from limiting, damaging language.

I intend.

Learning to Advocate for Myself

A recurring theme in my life, not being "Good Enough", has reared its ugly head again.

I am allergic to the wool carpet in our new house. This is a known allergy and we presumed I would suffer a bit when we moved in but had hoped that it would be mild enough that replacing the flooring could wait until we went, room by room, and redecorated the whole space.

Unfortunately, my reaction to the house has been swift and total. Inhalers needed, skin erupting in rashes... the works.

In dealing with all of this, already feeling low physically (it's exhausting being itchy 24/7) and emotionally (I find I'm still horrendously embarrassed by my eczema, even after more than 40 years with it), I took a backseat. I sat back and allowed Spouse to make decisions about how and when the flooring would be replaced because I didn't want to make waves, I didn't want to add stress where it wasn't necessary. And I started to feel worse. My health, I felt, wasn't being taken seriously. I wasn't being "heard".

Spouse and I got into a very slightly heated discussion about the flooring and timings, etc, about what I thought we should be doing versus what Spouse thought we should do... And why my needs were being ignored... and it was pointed out to me that I wasn't being "heard" because I wasn't saying anything!

I had been grumping around the house, miserable, sore, itchy - not telling Spouse how bad I felt, not communicating how much I was suffering.

I expected Spouse to know - and then was upset to discover that they didn't. Not to the extent that I was feeling it. Of course Spouse knows I'm suffering. It was obvious to anyone who sees me.... What Spouse couldn't have known, however, was how I am feeling, how much it's actually affecting me, how I feel emotionally and mentally because of the situation.

I briefly struggled to figure out why I would have trouble telling Spouse what my needs were. It didn't take long, though, to work out... In various, large portions of my life, the things I said, when I declared my needs, fell on deaf, impatient ears.

Throughout my life I had been ignored. Directly, wilfully, deliberately, indirectly, ignorantly, unwittingly... I have been ignored by my most primary relationships. Not all the time, of course. And sometimes, I was simply dismissed.

Through all of this, I learned. I learned that telling people what I needed, how I felt, what I wanted, even, was an exercise in futility at best and, at worst, in pain. It hurts to be ignored or dismissed and I can't tell you which is worse.

Now that I'm in my first healthy relationship, I'm having to relearn a lot of my behaviours and responses... I'm having to learn that it's not only OK to express what I need, it's essential, it's vital in a healthy relationship.

And I'm having to learn that my words will be listened to, that my voice will be heard.

I am learning that I am Good Enough.

I want...

Yesterday I paid for drugs.

Lots of drugs, actually, worth over £700.00 in total.

This fact leaves me feeling all sorts of emotions at the same time. So many that I am not sure I can articulate them coherently, but I feel I should try.

In 14 days our home will, once again, be filled with needles and alcohol wipes and my abdomen will again become filled with tiny holes. Holes through which I will inject the necessary hormones for trying to conceive via IVF.

Spouse and I have travelled this road together before. After "forever" of trying naturally, we started in October 2016. By December we learned that we'd not been lucky.

Of the eleven eggs removed; four fertilised. Two perfect embryos were implanted - and two perished before they could be frozen. The two that were implanted didn't "stick" and so the seven pregnancy tests I took that fateful day all came back negative.

No one knows why our embryos didn't "stick". I wrote cryptically about my reaction here and, to this day, the box has not been opened.

But it's not such a large box that I am unwilling to perhaps create another.

I adore my daughter; she's one of the most amazing people I've ever met, hands down, but I want a baby. I want a child with Spouse. I want to see his little face on a tiny human that he and I made together. I want to help raise amazing people who will change the world. I want to once again see my heart outside my body. I want...

I want.

The decision was fundamentally down to two things: me and finances. Spouse has been amazing throughout all of this. He cannot bear to do the injections or even watch me do them myself (I have no problem with them, thankfully), but whatever I have said, done, wanted or needed, he has been there, done that - no questions (other than the occasional checking in to make sure I'm not holding something back - I do have a tendency to do that).

As an aside, when this works and our child/ren ask where babies come from, we're going to tell them: When two people love each other very much.... Mummy becomes a pin cushion!

Or maybe not. But the chance to have to make that decision is a chance I cannot pass up.

So, I will be drugged and we will hope for "sticky" babies this time and I will be grateful that this option is available to us for we have tried and I am ageing and I want...

I want.

Added to the list of baddies...

As you probably know I am allergic/intolerant/sensitive to a plethora of foods which makes an "alternative" diet a bit tricky. IN an effort to streamline my life and make final decisions about what I can and cannot, will and will not eat; I dragged myself back to the allergy specialist for more testing on some foods I've been avoiding largely based on fear, cloudy childhood memories and a lack of willingness to test some of these foods and "fail" by having a potentially severe reaction.

I bought 7 tonnes of food, most of it dried, and brought the specialist The Sadist little sample bits of my fears.

After pricking my arms twelve times it was diagnosed that I am, indeed, severely allergic to some of the foods I was scared about. These are the culprits...

"Puy Style" Dark Speckled Green Lentils

Red Split Lentils

Brown Lentils

Green Lentils

Shall we just say .... all lentils? Grr, so frustrating.

On the other hand, we've learned that I'm -not- allergic to chickpeas, pine nuts, flax seeds, mung beans, aduki beans or millet!

(Sorry for the mush but the dried foods weren't conducive for testing as we couldn't guarantee that any of the allergen entered my skin. The mush ensured that it would.)

That's -fantastic- news but I must admit that some of those (along with the list of nuts OK'd at my last visit) I'm still afraid to eat because I've spent a lifetime avoiding them and thusly have almost brainwashed myself a bit. I -will- try them, I just need some time to convince myself that to do so will be OK ;)

**DISCLAIMER** I'd like to take a moment here to make this important PSA... Just because someone has a "negative" skin prick result (meaning that your skin isn't allergic to the allergen introduced) doesn't mean that you won't have something like OAS when you eat it. Consider yourselves warned/reminded.

I've been a busy little beaver doing all sorts of "chores" today... laundry, dishes, cooking two meals, assembling

and baking cookies!

///

Vegan Zucchini/Courgette Cookies

Stir together in a bowl:

1 cup brown sugar

1 cup grated zucchini/courgette (I think I'll add a bit more next time)

1/2 cup canola/rapeseed oil

1 teaspoon vanilla

Sift together in another sized bowl:

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

(Optional:

3/4 cup toasted, chopped pecans or walnuts

1 cup raisins)

Preheat the oven to 350 F (150 C). Add the wet mixture to the dry ingredients and stir until combined. (Stir in the nuts and raisins.)

Drop spoonfuls of dough on parchment-/baking paper- lined baking sheets. Bake for 12 minutes. Remove cookies and place on wire rack to cool.

Mine, pictured above, probably look a little darker than you'd prefer in a cookie. That's because I actually set my oven hotter (by about 50 degrees C) than I should. They still taste good (they're not burned) but I will make sure I check the required temperature versus the actual temperature of my oven next time!

///

After my adventures today I've declared the rest of the evening for knitting *grin*

All in the name of science

Today was a day of itches.

Not the nice "ah, let me scratch that.. that's better" kind of itches. No. Today was a day of "For the love of -goose- that itches and I can't scratch it!" kind of itches.

Today, I went to The Sadist (professionally known as my Allergy Specialist) who loves nothing better than mixing a myriad of food and plant stuffs with some benign solution, pricking my arm repeatedly (no less than 22 times this visit, thank you!) then sending me out to the waiting room for a period of 15 to 30 minutes while I marinate, cry, itch, squirm, count the seconds until I can take an antihistamine. (For those who don't know what the Skin Prick allergy test consists of: stay tuned to the end of the post.)

Yesterday, I had headed to a "healthy" kind of grocery shop and stocked up on some foodstuffs I was concerned/curious about. Here are the dry ones...

Last night, MrB and I meticulously packed sample-size portions of each food so that I wouldn't have to lug all of those containers and their contents halfway across London on the Underground and here are the ones that were deemed "safe"*...

and the ones that we need to test some other day...

I called The Sadist's secretary yesterday to ask if I should soak the beans/legumes/pulses/lentils overnight or just cook them or leave them be or what but The Sadist wasn't available for contact so I was advised to just bring them as they were. It turns out that most of these babies are too tough in their solid state to guarantee any food actually penetrated my skin when it was broken meaning that any results aren't certain. (Mushy foods are much smaller molecularly and therefor easier to force under the skin.)

So, I need to make another appointment. *sigh* To be honest, though, the 20+ pricks I got today were tough enough that I'm glad I didn't have another ten itchy spots to contend with.

Things I learned today:

1. I am severely allergic to goat's milk. (I know that I have a severe allergy to cow's milk but MrB and I were curious as to the possibility of other animal milks.) It turns out that if you have a severe cow's milk allergy the odds are that you will be allergic to the milk of other mammals. The Sadist asked if I'd like to be challenge tested for sheep's milk because my reaction wasn't as severe as the other milk reactions but warned me sternly that "under no circumstances" was I to encounter/test myself with an animal milk at home "or even sitting outside A&E [the ER]".
2. I was wrong when, as a child, I had convinced myself that I was allergic to nuts. It turns out I am not. (The Sadist and I have agreed that what probably happened is that I had a bit of an OAS reaction to walnuts not quite knowing how it differs from a dangerous allergy. This is, interestingly, attached to my Birch allergy.) And, now that I'm not allergic to any of the nuts The Sadist tested for today (and also peanuts, cashews and almonds) I'm allowed to perform my own OAS investigations at home with nuts. (Basically, take a nut, rub it on my wetted bottom lip and wait 15 minutes to see if I react.)

Almost two years ago I "had a run in" with strawberries that meant I've been earnestly avoiding them since. It wasn't an allergic reaction or even OAS but it was weird and something I wanted to not repeat so strawberries were out. Because my body is so sensitive and changes so often I decided I'd get tested for them, too. Turns out (as I suspected) I'm not allergic to them so I am now sitting down with this...

(they really are as yummy as they look)

...to see how I fare tomorrow. If said weirdness returns tomorrow I will know that I cannot have strawberries and I will, of course, report my findings here to you. (This odd symptom isn't something "new" or unique to me but it is still relatively unknown because strawberries aren't usually consumed in huge amounts.)

So, how did you spend your afternoon?

(Skin prick allergy testing involves preparing myself up to a week in advance. Because I have eczema/psoriasis I have to stop using topical steroids on my hands/arms for about a week before I get tested because their presence can inhibit any reactions. I also have to stop using my antihistamines for at least 24 hours -I try to go 48ish to be sure- for the same reason. If The Sadist is testing me for an allergen he has in his handy little kit then it is a liquid placed in a small drop (it looks like water) on my skin through which he pierces my skin with a lancet-type device that doesn't just have one sharp point but four. And he turns it to make sure it definitely breaks the surface of the skin. A little annoying but I can handle that pretty well. If there's a substance/food that isn't in The Sadist's little bag o' tricks then I have to provide it. Liquid, soft or mushy foods are best as they are comprised of smaller molecules which means it's easier to get enough of the sample through the break in my skin that any reaction (or lack thereof) can be deemed as official. If the substance is solid/too hard/dense (as we found out today) then The Sadist can't guarantee that there was enough of it on the lancet-type thing when it penetrated the skin to ensure a real result (if I don't react was it because I'm not allergic or because there wasn't any/enough allergen introduced?). This is done until we run out of things we want to test/The Sadist gets bored. Then he pricks my skin with a lancet with -nothing- on it (known as the Negative Control = I shouldn't react at all) and a lancet that has pure histamine (known as the Positive Control = I should react and the size of that reaction can help him gauge the others). Then he sends me out of the room to stew. I try to occupy my hands with an electronic game (usually on my phone) so that I don't scratch/rub/scream. I've tried crocheting and knitting but sharp objects that are perfect for scratching aren't so good when you're trying desperately not to scratch. Plus, I fidget so much during that time that I'd be dropping stitches left, right and centre. Not a calm me would that make. When I'm called back into the room The Sadist reviews the sizes of my bumps (ooer!) and makes his diagnoses. Then we discuss if/where/when we need further testing and I am allowed (finally) to take an antihistamine to help calm my system down. Once that's done we shake hands and I head home. Not too horrible, really, I'm just a big baby when it comes to really itchy itches. *grin*)